Kidnapped
by xxAwesome
Summary: Hermione is kidnapped, and finds herself in a revealing situation with a stranger she doesn't recognize. Femslash, mature. If it bothers you, don't read.


Hermione was minding her own business when she was attacked.

Well, not exactly attacked. Kidnapped was more like it. She had been walking around the castle, just clearing her head – she and Ron had had another argument, and when she couldn't take it anymore, she had stormed out of the common room. It had been getting late, but she hadn't wanted to go back, not yet. So she had turned the corner, and then all of a sudden she had been hit by a spell.

Now she was coming back to her senses, blinking blearily around the room. As soon as her mind cleared she immediately took stock of what was going on. She didn't recognize the room – it was a large, unfriendly room, filled with dark wood and red décor – but she couldn't have left Hogwarts (Dumbledore's spells made it impossible for students to be kidnapped) so she suspected she was in the Room of Requirement. The next thing she realized was that she was on a bed that had an obnoxiously red duvet cover, and that she was handcuffed to the head post. And finally, with growing horror, she realized that she was topless.

That's when she started to get afraid. Hermione was innocent in terms of actions, sure – she was a virgin – but she had learned a lot from books. She tried to cover herself up, but she was helpless.

"If you scream, I'll kill you."

A deep, strangely affected voice spoke, one that Hermione didn't recognize. Hermione whipped her head around to see where the voice had come from, and she spotted a figure, standing by the lit fireplace. Her kidnapper, or so she assumed, was surprisingly short and small-statured, almost delicate. He was dressed in black robes, with a black shirt underneath, so she couldn't tell what house he was from. He was wearing a balaclava, but his eyes were covered with a strip of cloth, so she couldn't make out any of his features at all except for his mouth, which, like his body, was oddly soft and small, almost feminine.

"Who are you?" demanded Hermione, managing to keep her voice steady and hiding the fear that was rapidly growing, while trying to turn away and hide her chest. She didn't know where her wand was, and she was helpless.

"Shut up, you whore. I didn't give you permission to speak."

A thrill went through Hermione at these words – she'd never been called a whore before, and while it offended her and scared her, she was strangely turned on by it. Still, she wouldn't stand for it. "Who are you?" she repeated, louder.

This time her kidnapper strode up to her and smacked her across the cheek with the back of his hand. Surprised and stunned into silence, Hermione gazed fearfully at the stranger, unsure of what would happen next. She didn't have a chance to do anything, because the stranger started to strip off her remaining clothing.

He pulled off her skirt, ripping it from her thighs, and then immediately tore off her panties. Remembering his warning not to scream, Hermione held her tongue, but she struggled, kicking at him, crying out, "No! Leave me alone!"

Her only reward was to be smacked again. Hermione was sure that there was a mark on her cheek now.

The stranger stood back, admiring her nakedness. Horrified, Hermione crossed her legs, trying to protect herself. This seemed to amuse her kidnapper, who simply strode forward and grasped one her of legs, tying the ankle to the end of the bed, before repeating the action with the other foot so her legs were spread wide open. He then stood back again and stared shamelessly at her. Even though his eyes were hidden, she knew he could see everything, and she was ashamed.

But at the same time, Hermione couldn't help but be turned on intensely. She had never been treated this way – she was the perfect schoolgirl who never got in trouble or was reprimanded – and it sent a thrill through her body to be taken advantage of and treated so roughly. Only in her fantasies had she imagined such domination, and even then she had been embarrassed with herself. Her nipples hardened and she started to get wet despite herself; she began to get excited, and her fear lessened. The stranger sneered, amused, and said in that same odd, deep voice, "So you're not such a good girl, are you Granger? You dirty slut. You like this. You're enjoying it."

Another shiver went to her stomach at the words, but she kept her face stoic, refusing to show emotion.

Her kidnapper sniffed with disdain and crept closer to her, caressing her cheek where he had slapped her, before suddenly hitting her again. This time Hermione managed to muffle her cry, which seemed to please the stranger. "Good girl," he said. Then he carefully climbed up on the bed, adjusting himself so he was on his knees next to her. He leaned forward, and Hermione shivered at his nearness, fear returning.

"N-no," she said, "Plea-"

Her cry was cut off as the stranger captured her lips with his own, and suddenly Hermione didn't want him to stop anymore. His lips were so soft, softer then Viktor's had ever been, and the things he was doing with his tongue made Hermione moan with ecstasy. She couldn't help herself, she kissed him back, pressing her lips desperately against his, her flesh growing warm and feverish as she got more turned on.

He pulled away and she made a soft noise of disappointment, which made him giggle and croon, "You slut." But before she could process this his lips were licking and kissing and biting their way down to her neck and her chest and then to her tits. He caressed her tits with his hands, then licked one, before biting down on her nipple, hard enough to make Hermione shriek. The same action was repeated on the other one, and then his hands went back to rolling the nipples between his fingers. She moaned again.

"You make the most delicious sounds," the stranger whispered, almost moaned, nearly too quietly for her to make out. And then the cruelty was back, and she was struck across her other cheek, across her tit, across the soft part of her belly. The places burned where she was hit, but they began to feel good, to add to the unbearable feeling and wetness between her legs.

"You horny cunt," he hissed. "You're loving this. You want this. Is this what you think about when you touch yourself? Being dominated? You fifthly whore. You want me to hit you again. Say it, you whore, tell me you want me to hit you."

Hermione flushed. The words were having almost as strong an effect on her as the slaps were, and before she could stop herself she was begging, pleading with the stranger to hit her. "P-please, hit me again... it feels so g-good..."

He complied, smacking her again, making her gasp each time. He slid lower, caressing her thighs before hitting them, and then paused above her pussy. Fear returned to Hermione, but she was so far gone already that it vanished quickly, all she wanted was his touch. She let out an involuntary moan, and the stranger continued, striking her pussy, hitting her clit. She hissed, but already the pain was fading, turning into pleasure.

Then the stranger leaned forward and licked her folds. Hermione stiffened, gasping, squirming. It felt so good, so amazing, all she could do was dig her nails into her palm and bite on her cheek. He kept licking her, biting down on her clit and thrusting his tongue deeper into her pussy with each stroke. Her hips rolled, and she nearly cried out when he stopped.

"No!" she whined without meaning to. He laughed, and then spat, "Tell me what you want me to do."

"I...I want you to lick me," she said, hesitantly, horrified with herself but desperate to feel his tongue again.

He sneered. "For a whore, you aren't very creative." He slipped a finger into her pussy and began to finger fuck her, slowly. Hermione's muscles tensed around his finger and she let out another moan, but again he stopped.

He was silent, and she took it as a cue to talk. "Use... finger me, p-please..." She was flushing now, unable to say it. He didn't move. "Please?"

"Shall I fuck you?"

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath at his words and managed to nod, almost overcome with desire.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"I w-want... please..." she couldn't say it, she was too embarrassed. But her kidnapper remained impassive, unmoved, so she tried again, desperate. "F-f... fuck me... p-please..." Her face turned bright red as she said it, but her pussy throbbed.

"You want me fuck you with my cock?"

"Y-yes... with your... your c-cock."

"Beg. Beg like the whore you are." His voice, which had been so controlled before, sounded strained at Hermione's obscene words. It wasn't as deep as before, and it cracked, but Hermione was too distracted and desperate to notice.

"Please! P-please f-fuck me..." She gasped as he began to stroke her again with his fingers. Then he stopped and fumbled with his robes. To her surprise he didn't take them off, just unzipped his pants and forced his cock out.

Shock made Hermione's head clear – for his cock was purple, and rubbery, and although she'd never seen a penis before, she knew that it couldn't possibly look like that. But before she could say anything, her kidnapper pushed the dildo forward, rubbing it against the lips of her pussy, and she gasped, distracted again, her head swimming. Then he entered her, slowly at first, before wildly beginning to thrust in and out of her.

At first it hurt, but then pleasure quickly took the place of pain as he started to use his fingers to circle her clit as he forced the dildo farther and deeper into her pussy. She moaned, her hips bucking with his movements, as his other hand slapped her thigh, adding to her pleasure.

"B-beg..." gasped out the stranger, the deepness of his voice fading as his movements grew wild and he shuddered with pleasure.

"Fuck me," she gasped, then repeated louder, "f-fuck me!"

He thrust faster, swearing under his breath, while his hand circled her clit with manic movements. He was lying over her now, his covered head above Hermione's. The hand that wasn't busy braced itself against the headboard. The ecstasy was growing nearly unbearable, and her hips rolled as she shuddered, but before she let herself go she had to know who it was who had kidnapped her. Forcing herself up, she used her teeth to grab the balaclava, forcing it up and over his head as he shuddered with delight.

The balaclava and the attached cloth covering that had been hiding his eyes fell away, revealing Pansy. Her dark hair came loose and fell over her shoulder, and her eyes opened in shock when she realized what had happened.

The revelation of Pansy – her tormentor, a Slytherin, and a _girl_ – being the one who had kidnapped her and who was fucking her sent Hermione over the edge, and she shuddered, letting out a breathy gasp and scream and she reached an orgasm. Her ears rang and she was flooded with insane, divine pleasure as her vision flickered, and then she heard a hoarse cry as Pansy came afterwards, collapsing on top of Hermione.

They both rode the pleasure of the orgasm for a minute, breathing heavily.

And then Hermione opened her eyes. Pansy was looking away, horrified and embarrassed at being found out.

"I..." she said, for once speechless, her bravado gone. "Granger, you better not tell anyone about this... or..."

A smile blossomed on Hermione's lips, and even she was surprised by how tender it was. "It's Hermione." Pansy's eyes flickered up to meet Hermione's, confused. "My name is Hermione."

Pansy hesitated, and then repeated softly, "Hermione."

Hermione's smile widened, and a small smile that mirrored Hermione's lighted on Pansy's lips. Overcome with the desire to kiss her, Hermione pulled herself forward and kissed Pansy, sighing into the softness of her lips. After a heartbeat Pansy reacted, kissing her back with a tenderness that was entirely different then the harshness of before.

Then she pulled back, panting a little, and Hermione could see something like hope in Pansy's eyes.

"Next time I wear the balaclava," whispered Hermione, and something dangerous entered Pansy's smile, something that made Hermione shiver with anticipation.

"In your dreams, Granger."

Then Pansy lowered her head back down to Hermione's lips, and they lost themselves in the warmth and softness of each other.

**A/N: Okay so lately I've been obsessed with Pansy/Hermione, and once this idea hit me I had to write it. Hope you enjoyed! :D**


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